Holding the Hand that Holds Me Down
by Vita Fidens
Summary: Sequel to "Change is Coming, Feel These Doors Now Closing In." The final installment in this series - thank you all so much for reading! Her mind is made up. Her heart is settled. But one man refuses to leave her life. Who will be standing in the end? M: Language, sex
1. Chapter 1

It's odd what catches your eye during life-altering moments.

I can still remember the way the splinters of the door frame looked against our carpet. The way the door hung slightly askew, the bottom hinge nearly completely apart.

"Sorry to make a mess," Punk said casually as he walked towards the bed. I recognized one of my kitchen knives in his hand. "The door was locked. I was worried."

His voice sounded hollow. His eyes were flat and dull. He sat on the edge of the bed beside me and began non-nonchalantly twirling the knife.

"You guys look cozy," he nodded towards Wade. "Can I take this as the confirmation that you're back together?"

I swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. "Punk -"

"Don't placate me, now," he said warningly. He lightly rested the flat part of the knife against my shoulder.

"Don't you -" Wade started.

"Shut up," he said evenly. "I'm not talking to you." He turned his eyes back to mine. "I'm talking to you."

"Nothing happened," I decided to start by saying. "I..." I looked up at him pleadingly. "I don't know what I want," I finally admitted to him. "I love you. I really do. A part of me always has. But I don't think we're safe for each other."

He nodded slowly, chewing his bottom lip. "So you'll give up love to be with someone who you think is safe. Someone who has lied, cheated, and abandoned you time and time again."

"It's more complicated than that, and you know it," I said gently.

"Don't tell me what I do and don't know." He pressed the blade a little more forcefully into my skin. It didn't really hurt; it was simply a reminder of who held the power in this situation.

"I'm sorry."

He stared at me for a long moment before letting the knife up. "The kids are in the car. We're taking them to breakfast. I suggest you get dressed."

I moved to slowly slide around him, but he caught me and kissed me hard. Wade reached out – to do what, I'm not entirely sure – and that's where the real trouble started.


	2. Chapter 2

I stared at the knife buried in Wade's hand. At first, I didn't quite register what was going on. It looked unreal; like a Halloween prop you'd buy in the costume store.

I hazarded a look up at his face – he was suddenly deathly pale.

I opened my mouth, and the words I had intended to come forth didn't – only a scream did. Punk quickly clapped his hand over my mouth.

"Shut up," he said forcefully in my ear. "He's fine. It's not going to kill him."

I forced myself to take a few deep breaths. I closed my lips, and Punk slowly pulled his hand away. "Go get dressed," he repeated. "I'll take care of Wade."

"Take care of him how?" I asked nervously.

He managed a small smile. "I'm not going to kill him. I'm not even going to hurt him again." I peeked over his shoulder at Wade, who gave me a small nod. "Don't look at him," Punk snapped. "Just do what I tell you."

I looked down and then quickly went to gather my clothes. I went to enter the bathroom, but Punk stopped me. "Dress here. I don't want you out of my sight."

I turned my back and slowly pulled my pajamas off. I listened intently, hearing the horrible sounds of Punk pulling the knife out of Wade's hand.

Wade was stoic, but I heard him grunt as the knife was pulled free. This was followed by a ripping sound that I imagined was my bed sheet. I heard, very softly, the sound of fabric knotting. When I turned back around, I found that I was correct – Punk had torn my sheet to make an impromptu bandage for Wade's hand.

He looked back over his shoulder at me, noting that I was dressed. The knife was still in his hand, a slow drip of blood sliding down the blade to patter down onto my carpet.

"Sit in the chair," Punk said to Wade, gesturing towards the armchair in the corner.

Wade complied, and I watched Punk systematically rip my bedsheets. I stood by, helpless, while he secured Wade to the chair. "This will have to do for now," he muttered. "If you're gone when we get back, I will slit her throat and end all of this once and for all. Do you understand me?"

Wade nodded slowly.

Punk backed away and took my hand. He guided me out of the room and down the stairs without another word. He took a detour to the kitchen to rinse off the knife and stick it in the dish drainer.

Then we were in the car with the kids. I did my best to maintain some level of normal behavior with my heart pounding in my chest.

We took the kids out to their favorite diner. Punk squeezed into the booth next to me and kept his hand on my thigh. When I refused to order any food, he tightened his grip and ordered for me. I got the message and ate with gusto when my meal arrived.

Ben and Claire didn't seem to notice any difference in my behavior. I was mostly quiet, speaking when I thought it was appropriate or when I had gone too long without saying anything. The kids chattered away happily, and I was grateful to think that they were blissfully unaware.

"Mom, why was Wade's car at the house this morning?" Ben asked innocently.

I swallowed hard, my heart suddenly picking up the pace. I tried to think quickly. "He had to go away this week," I replied. "He didn't want to keep the car parked at the apartment all that time. So he dropped it off early this morning."

I was worried how he would take this, but he accepted it easily.

Punk lightly stroked my thigh in approval. I found myself nearly losing the breakfast I had just wolfed down.

The kids finished up the last of their glasses of chocolate milk and we left.

Punk stopped at a hardware store on the way home and wisely took Ben in with him. He came back out with carabiner clips and rope.

I wanted to go upstairs and check on Wade immediately when we came home, but Punk caught the back of my jeans and yanked me off the stairs. "No," he said simply, wrapping his arm around my waist.

Instead, we settled in to watch a movie. Punk pulled Claire onto his lap and Ben sat between us. I kept my hand on his head; terrified to lose my grip on him. I kept glancing at Claire, who was contentedly curled against Punk's chest.

Just as the credits started to roll, there was a knock at the door. Punk seemed to be expecting this, and he went to answer the door with Claire still in his arms.

I peered around the couch to see Colt standing there.


	3. Chapter 3

"Uncle Colt's taking you guys for a sleepover!" Colt announced, bouncing into the room with Claire on his hip.

I swallowed hard, but managed to smile as Ben looked to me for permission. I knew that with whatever was coming, the children would be a million times safer outside of this house.

"You guys keep Uncle Colt entertained," Punk said. "Your mom and I are going to get you packed."

Woodenly, I rose from my seat and followed him upstairs.

We started in Claire's room. After a few silent moments of handing him clothes to put in her backpack, I very quietly thanked him.

"Despite what you think of me, I do love those kids," he replied. "I wouldn't harm a hair on their heads."

"But you would on ours," I replied flatly.

"I will on Wade's," he corrected me, "to get him to stay away from my family."

"Funny, I think he'd say that we're his family."

He glared at me, and I snapped my mouth shut. We passed a few tense moments in silence, finishing packing Claire's bag before moving to Ben's room.

I glanced nervously at the splintered bedroom door, hoping for a glance of Wade, but the angle in the hallway didn't allow me to see him. Punk caught me looking and rolled his eyes.

"When can I check on him?" I asked as we began packing Ben's backpack.

"I'd prefer if you didn't."

"He's hurt. He needs something more than a ripped-up sheet on his hand. He probably also needs to use the bathroom and eat."

Punk studied me for a moment. "Let me make love to you," he said simply. I looked at him curiously. "I'm not going to force you," he said, "no matter how much I might want you. But I'm not above bargaining for it. You make love to me after the kids leave, and you can check on Wade. You can clean his hand up, you can feed him, you can do whatever you feel the need to do for him."

I paused, my throat suddenly dry. I didn't trust myself to speak, so I simply nodded curtly.

In that moment, I quite simply hated him. I hated what he was doing to my family, and I hated what he was doing to me. I felt completely powerless once again.

We brought the bags down to the kids, and Colt removed them quickly. I stood at the door and watched them go. Colt turned back to me, his eyes unreadable. "They'll be safe," was all he said. I nodded in reply, crossing my arms over my chest.

Punk stepped beside me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. I watched my kids drive away, waving, wondering if I would ever see them again.

He didn't waste any time after they had gone, his lips finding my neck as he pulled me away from the door, his foot darting out to kick it shut.

I tried to just close my eyes and be done with it. I focused on Wade. I focused on my children. I focused on getting us all through this and reuniting, safe and happy.

He kept trying to get my attention, to bring me into the moment with him, but I would always direct my attention elsewhere. After a short while, he simply flipped me over so that he couldn't see my face. I stared at the arm of the couch, wondering when the last time we had cleaned the upholstery on it was. I made a mental note to do that once this was all over.

'Fuck that,' I thought, 'I'm buying a new goddamn couch. A new living room set. A new house. I don't ever want to think of this again.'

Finally, Punk sighed and I felt him pull away from me. It wasn't his usual version of the 'I'm done' sigh. I cautiously turned and looked at him over my shoulder.

"You're completely uninterested," he said, almost pouting. "It's distracting me."

"My apologies," I snapped. "I'm just a little preoccupied."

I could see his jaw clench, and I felt a small wave of fear wash over me.

He rested his hands on his bare thighs. "Go," he muttered, obviously angry. "Just go take care of him. I know it's what you want."

I hesitated before contorting myself to a sitting position. In spite of everything, I found that I didn't want him to be hurt.

"I just can't focus," I said gently, reaching out to touch his hand. "I'm sorry."

His eyes were guarded as they met mine. "I'm being sincere. Go take care of Wade."

"Thank you." I stood cautiously and began to pull my clothing back on. As I went to walk by him, he caught my arm.

"You'd better give me everything you have later," he said sternly. "I want you to make love to me, not lay there and pray for it to be over. Do you understand?"


	4. Chapter 4

I rushed up the stairs, only to hesitate in front of the door. I wasn't sure what I was going to find. Taking a deep breath, I walked into the room.

Wade was sitting with his eyes closed. He opened them warily as I walked in, and I saw some relief on his face.

"You're ok," he sighed. "Thank God."

"I'm fine," I said impatiently, heading over to him. "How are you? I'm here to take care of your hand."

"I've been worried sick. Where are the kids?" He asked as I knelt in front of him and gently took his injured hand to examine it.

"They're not here. Colt took them. They'll be safer away from Punk."

"I don't know that I like one of his friends having them, but it is better that they aren't here," he agreed, wincing as I untied the sheet and gently pulled the fibers away from the wound.

I swallowed hard at the sight of all the dried blood. "It doesn't look terrible," I said, simply to break the silence, "but we really should get you to the hospital."

"No," Punk said from the doorway. I turned to glance back at him. He leaned against the frame, shirtless, with his arms crossed over his chest. "Nobody's leaving. Do what you can here."

I closed my eyes as I turned back to Wade, attempting to steady myself. "Come on. Let's go get that washed up."

I led him by his good hand into the bathroom and started the hot water. "It's not going to feel good," I warned.

He simply gritted his teeth and nodded, and I went to work.

Within ten minutes, I had disinfected the wound and began bandaging it. I didn't want to say anything to Wade, but it looked ugly. I was sure he was smart enough to realize that on his own. I didn't need to add to his knowledge on that subject.

As I finished, he bent down and kissed me intensely. "I love you," he murmured. "We will get through this."

I merely nodded, fighting back tears. I turned to lead him out of the bathroom and nearly ran into Punk. His eyes were murderous and fixated on Wade.

"Touch her again and see what happens."

Wade snorted derisively. "You're a tough guy, threatening to hurt a man who's already injured."

"Who said I was going to hurt _you_?" Punk asked, turning his head slightly towards me.

Wade's face went pale, his lips contorting into an involuntary sneer of disgust. I didn't want to simply stand around and watch these two in a pissing contest any longer. "Come on downstairs," I said, gently taking Wade's hand to lead him away. "You should have something to eat."

To my great displeasure, Punk trailed us downstairs and watched while I hastily made Wade a couple of sandwiches.

"When," Punk started in as Wade took a substantial bite of his first sandwich, "are you going to leave my family alone?" He slid into the seat directly across from Wade, his hands clasped together and his eyes narrowed as he studied the larger man.

Wade chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. "The way I see it, it's my family, and_ you _need to leave _us_ alone."

Punk shook his head, quite obviously displeased. "You're an idiot. She comes back to me time and time again. She will always come back to me. You were just holding my place for the last few years. Now I'm here, and I intend to stay."

Wade glanced over at me, and I could see the fear in his guarded expression. He was concerned that what Punk was saying was at least partially true. I shook my head lightly, but felt my heart sink. How could I ever guarantee that I wouldn't want Punk again? I had learned that I simply couldn't stay away from him.

Punk followed Wade's gaze and grinned at me before he started laughing. "Even she's not sure," he said gleefully. "You're looking to her for confirmation, for reassurance, and she just can't give it to you." He leaned towards Wade. "Even if she could, would you honestly believe her?"

Wade opened his mouth to answer, and then abruptly shut it again. I could feel my eyes filling with tears.

"That's enough," I said, trying to make my voice sound firm, but a small warble still escaped. "That's enough of this."

Punk leaned back in his chair and studied me for a moment, his arms crossed over his chest. "All right," he said finally. "I'll stop telling him the truth. But you'd better stop lying to yourself, and soon."


	5. Chapter 5

We, thankfully, finished that meal in silence. When Wade was done, I led him back upstairs, Punk trailing us. We waited while he used the bathroom. He was in there a long while, the water running nearly constantly. He came back out with small water droplets trailing down his neck.

"Back to the chair," Punk said, sounding almost bored.

I took his hand and walked to the chair with him. As he sat down, I lightly squeezed his hand, in what I hoped was a reassuring way.

Punk shoved me aside, rope and carabiner clips in hand. I watched, still disbelieving, while Punk secured Wade to the chair.

Once he was done, he turned and grabbed me, pulling me towards him. He kissed me passionately, pressing his body against mine. I was very stiff against him, refusing to kiss him back. He wrapped his hand in my hair and yanked angrily.

"You do remember our agreement?" He murmured next to my mouth, yanking my shirt up over my head.

I closed my eyes. "Not here," I protested weakly, trying to cover my breasts with my hands.

"Yes, here," he snapped, shoving me down on the bed. "I tried to give you privacy. You wanted Wade. Here he is, and here's where you'll show him how much you love me."

I closed my eyes and tried to swallow down the vomit that threatened its way up my throat. He climbed onto the bed with me and wrenched my legs apart. Unbuttoning my pants, he slid his hand into my panties and began to lightly stroke me.

He bent down and kissed me, growling softly when I didn't kiss him back immediately. I slowly became more receptive to his kisses. His lips slid down to suck and lick my neck, and then my nipples. I hazarded a glance at Wade. He was stone-faced, staring at the two of us. I could feel the tears starting to slide down my cheeks.

Punk didn't stop; he kissed his way down my abdomen and began tugging at my pants and panties. I relented and helped him by lifting my hips. Now that I was completely naked, Punk buried his face between my thighs.

I knew exactly why he was doing this. Not only to torment Wade, but also to attempt to make me more compliant in my participation.

I tried to lay back and focus elsewhere. It didn't work. There were many things I could say about Punk, and one of those things would be how fantastically attentive he could be in bed. He was absolutely giving me his very best at the moment, and I found my body responding to him in spite of my mental repulsion.

After a short while, I was surprised to hear a soft moan escape my lips. My hands found their way to his head, and I began to run my fingers back through his hair. He responded by amping up his attention, his tongue becoming more insistent.

My moans came more quickly. Punk seemed to reach some kind of breaking point. He stopped abruptly and was suddenly kneeling between my thighs, pushing himself inside of me.

Guiltily, I glanced over at Wade. He had his eyes closed, and his face turned away from the bed. Punk moaned softly as he slid all of the way inside of me, and I saw Wade wince. He looked ill.

Punk turned my head back towards him and kissed me roughly. He groaned against my mouth and I felt him slide out of me. He merely knelt there for a moment, kissing me before cautiously slipping inside me again. I studied him for a moment, watching his brow furrow and his teeth dart out to bite his lip.

He was trying to hold out; to prolong this encounter.

I saw my chance to end this quickly.

I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist and pushed myself up against him, forcing him completely inside of me. I rolled my hips gently, reaching up to pull his face down to meet mine. I kissed him passionately, mimicking the movement of our bodies with our tongues.

He tried to stop my movements; tried to slow everything down. I grabbed his hands and put them on my breasts, gyrating my hips more intensely.

He groaned loudly. "Oh, you bitch," he gasped, squeezing my breasts while his thrusting sped up.

His orgasm was intense. I watched his body shudder, his breath coming out in ragged pants. Finally, his arms trembling, he collapsed on top of me. He still moaned softly, pushing his rapidly fading erection into me again and again while his lips dotted my neck with kisses.

I lay beneath him, mentally begging for him to get away from me. I wanted to see Wade and apologize for what he had just been forced to watch.

Punk rolled off of me, putting his body between Wade and I. He pulled me into his arms, forcing my face into the nook of his neck so that I couldn't see Wade, and started lightly rubbing my back.

I felt his lips brush my forehead. "I love you," he said softly. "I love you so fucking much."

Punk dozed off. After I was sure he was asleep, I stood and crept over to Wade. I paused to pull on my t-shirt and panties – I didn't want to remind him any more than staring at Punk's sleeping body already was.

"I am so sorry," I said softly as I reached him, tears falling down my face.

He shook his head, sadness apparent in his eyes. "I know you didn't have a choice," he replied in a low voice.

I shakily sat on the floor beside him and rested my head on his lap, wrapping my arms around his legs. I started sobbing uncontrollably, burying my face in his thigh so that I didn't wake Punk. I felt Wade squirming beneath me, and then felt his hand lightly touch my head.

I took deep breaths and tried to calm myself. This was not what we needed right now. I needed to keep a level head.

I looked up at him and he gave me a weak smile, which I managed to return. I glanced back at Punk before cautiously reaching forward and unclipping one of the carabiner clips that fastened the ropes to the chair.

Wade's eyes darted to the bed nervously before his eyes met mine again and he nodded quickly. I went about methodically unfastening the clips. Punk had made some very complicated maneuvers with the rope, and it took all of my concentration. Wade looked at the one that was troubling me greatly, attempting to quietly assist me with getting it undone.

I heard the thud of flesh on flesh and glanced up to see Wade's head drooped on his shoulder, a trickle of blood running from his mouth.

I had time to close my eyes and say a quick prayer before hands were beneath my arms, pulling me back towards the foot of the bed. My back hit the footboard and the world swam in front of my eyes for a moment.

Punk's face floated above me. "Tsk tsk tsk," he clucked, wagging his finger in front of my face. "You should know better." He slapped me hard in the face, and then bent down and kissed me. "I hate that you made me do that," he chided. "And after we just had such a nice time together."

"You need to let him go," I said. "You can't keep him here forever."

"I don't intend to," Punk replied calmly. "I have everything under control. I don't need your interference in my plans."

I stared up at him with pure loathing. He merely looked back at me, obviously exasperated. "You'd better stop that right now," he said quietly, bending down so that he was at eye level with me. "You and I are going to be together for the rest of our lives. Don't make me treat you like a hostile until you die." He reached out and lightly stroked my cheek. "I want to be nice to you. I want us to have a good, happy life together. Stop fighting me on it."

He stood and offered me his hands. After a moment of hesitation, I took them and stood as well. It would seem to be in my best interest to play along with him, at least for now. When he kissed me again, I didn't necessarily kiss him back – but I didn't fight him, either.


	6. Chapter 6

Punk ordered a pizza.

It seemed like one of the strangest things to me. Here we were, eating take-out and watching a movie, while my husband was tied to a chair up in my bedroom. The equation simply didn't add up in my brain.

After I was done picking at my food, Punk wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me down onto his chest.

I lay there for a few moments.

"What are you doing?" I finally asked.

"Watching a movie," he sighed.

"That's not what I mean, and you know it."

Punk leaned forward and hit the pause button on the remote. He sat back and rubbed my shoulder absent-mindedly.

"I'm making sure that my family remains intact," he answered carefully. "I'm tired of your back-and-forth between Wade and I. I am the one you should be with. I should be the father of Ben and Claire. I should be your husband. There shouldn't be any more doubt or worry. The decision needs to be made, and since you seem unwilling or unable to make the right decision, I'm making it for you."

"Do you really think that's the best way to go about this?"

"I'm tired," he replied, suddenly sounding bone-weary. "I'm so tired of trying to be kind and understanding while you run back and forth between us. You need to stop. You need to be with me."

I went quiet. After a few moments of listening to Punk's heart race in his chest, he grabbed me and pulled me upright. He kissed me again and again, his hands desperately pulling at my clothes. Suddenly, he stopped. "I don't want to live without you," he said frankly, holding my face in between his hands and staring intently into my eyes. "Wade can't say the same thing. He isn't as devoted to you. He doesn't love you like I do. Why can't you see what's staring you right in the face?"

I closed my eyes. I needed this to simply go away.

Instead of going away, I was kissed again. Punk's tongue slipped into my mouth this time, his hands sliding down to my shoulders. He gently began kneading the tense muscles while he kissed me, attempting to force me to relax.

Finally, he pulled away and rested his forehead against mine.

"You've left me no choice, my love," he whispered. "Just remember that."

I sat woodenly through the rest of the movie, Punk's arm wrapped tightly around my shoulder. I wanted to try to talk to him further about everything, but I couldn't seem to find the right words to say or the appropriate questions to ask.

I sat staring at the television long after the credits were done rolling, my eyes completely sightless to what was on the screen in front of me. It wasn't until Punk waved his hand in front of my face that I snapped back to reality.

He kissed my forehead. "Are you sleeping with your eyes open?"

I considered the question. "I think I'm just trying to process everything," I replied carefully, sitting up.

"Still, huh?" Punk crossed his arms over his chest. "What can I help you process?"

I hesitated. "Am I ever going to see my children again?"

"That's going to be up to you and your behavior. I can't have you around them if you're erratic. It will be a few weeks before you can see them, I think."

"What are you going to do with Wade?"

"When we get ready to leave for our final destination, we'll drop him off at a hospital on the way."

I could have wept tears of joy at these answers. "Our final destination?" I questioned, instead glancing over at him.

"You didn't really think we could stay here, did you?" He was staring at me calmly. "The police would be here in a heartbeat after we let Wade go. I also heard you tell him that Colt had the kids, which means they'll have to be moved before we go anywhere."

I paused, my heart racing. "Could we stay if I divorced Wade and married you?"

He raised an eyebrow at me. "I think it's come too far for that. I couldn't trust you to really do that, now could I?"

"No, I suppose not," I replied quietly. My thoughts still buzzed gleefully. I would see Ben and Claire. Wade would get the care he needed. Everyone would be ok.

I glanced at Punk. Well, everyone but me. I contemplated this for mere seconds before nodding my agreement.

"When are we leaving?"

He smiled widely at me.


	7. Chapter 7

Wade was awake when we went up to bed. Punk wrapped his arm around my shoulder and grinned lazily at him.

"Ready for bed?" He asked me, kissing the side of my head.

I didn't trust my voice. I stared down at the floor as I nodded quickly. Knowing that Punk would be taking me somewhere made it infinitely difficult to even look at Wade. My heart simply ached with the knowledge that I would never see him again.

I walked forward before I could start crying and began to turn down the bed. Punk must have changed the sheets at some point; the torn and tattered ones that had comprised Wade's initial bandage had been replaced by our spare set.

Punk was immediately behind me, his hands gently tugging at my clothes. He pulled my shirt up over my head and unhooked my bra, dropping both haphazardly on the floor. He gently cupped my breasts, kissing my neck.

Glancing at Wade, I saw that his eyes were fixed on Punk. He looked positively murderous.

Punk must have noticed as well; he laughed before sliding his hand down into my pants. He took my hand and guided it back to his crotch. I wasn't terribly surprised to find that he was already hard.

His hands were suddenly gone, and I saw his own shirt hit the floor out of the corner of my eye. I heard him working at his belt buckle, and my hand was suddenly touching flesh instead of fabric. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I had to play along. I needed to see my kids.

He lightly moved my arm back in front of me and wrapped his arms around me from behind. His warm bare chest pressed against my back and his lips found my neck again. His hands started working at my jeans, deftly popping the button and sliding the zipper down.

He systematically divested me of the rest of my clothing before turning me around to face him. He wrapped his arms around me and held our bare bodies together tightly. Kissing me intensely, he hit the light switch before guiding me to bed.

It lasted longer this time.

The darkness was also a blessing. I could close my eyes and try to forget that it was Punk. I could try to forget about Wade being there.

I could try. I couldn't necessarily succeed.

Punk wrapped himself around me, moving slowly. "I love you," he said softly in my ear.

Fighting the urge to be sick, I wrapped my arms around his neck in reply. I forced myself to lightly run my fingers through his hair and sigh quietly in what I hoped sounded like pleasure.

I checked out of my mind after that. I don't know where I was, but it was far away from that bedroom.

When I came back to, I was on my back with Punk was lying beside me, his arm wrapped around my midsection. His breath was hot and hard in my ear, his chest trickling with beads of sweat. I could feel liquid between my thighs, slowly dripping out onto the sheet.

I waited a few moments before lightly patting the arm wrapped around me. "I need to clean up," I told him gently.

"Go ahead," he replied softly, turning away from me and onto his back.

I made my way to the bathroom, knowing that I was leaving a mess in my wake. I closed the door and ran the water in the sink for a few moments before deciding I would go for broke.

The shower started, and nobody came to object. I climbed in gratefully, scrubbing away all of the evidence of Punk. I showered in the dark, not wanting to even see my body after he had used it.

After I had washed everything twice, I reluctantly turned the water off and wrapped myself in a towel before stepping out. I dried as slowly as I could, and began combing through my hair meticulously. I was delaying the inevitable for as long as I was possibly able.

Light rapping on the door. "All right in there?" Punk asked, his voice not quite concerned.

"Yeah," I called back. "Just drying off. Be right out."

He ignored my obvious hope for more privacy and opened the door. The glow of the bedside lamps followed him in.

"What are you doing in the dark?" His voice was suspicious.

I didn't quite know how to answer that. "It was just...calming," I finally elected to say.

"All right," he said slowly, in a tone that made his disbelief obvious. "Why don't you come on out now."

I walked by him as quickly as I could, clutching the towel in front of me. I dressed very hastily, acutely aware of Punk's and Wade's eyes both on me.

When I turned back around, Punk was sitting on the bed waiting for me. He hadn't bothered with getting dressed. He patted the bed beside him.

"Come on. We have a busy day tomorrow."

I followed instructions. I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling.

"Is that how you want to sleep?" I shook my head. "Well, get comfortable."

When I had turned on my side, he walked to the foot of the bed. I felt a loop of rope tighten around my ankle. I glanced down at him, and he met my eyes. "Just being cautious," he said cheerfully. "You understand. I can't have you running off in the middle of the night."

I simply nodded, and rested my head again. After he was done with my ankle, he came up and gently took my wrist, tying another loop and fastening my hand to the headboard. He lightly traced his fingers down my arm before gently kissing me on the forehead.

He left the room, turning out the light on the way out.

"Wade?" I said softly, "I'm so sorry..."

He didn't answer me.

A long, restless night followed.


	8. Chapter 8

I must have dozed at least a bit. I awoke with Punk's arm wrapped tightly around me, his body leaning into mine. My first thought was that I had awoken to another day in Hell; what a joy. My second thought was that I hoped he wouldn't want to do anything about the erection pressed into my back.

I tried to maneuver my head to get a decent look at Wade. He was awake, staring down at his bound feet. The expression on his face was one of total defeat.

I wished that I could try to talk to him, but I heard Punk's breathing change behind me and knew that he was swimming up out of the reaches of sleep.

His hand lightly squeezed my breast and he nuzzled my neck with his face before sighing and rolling away from me.

I expected his hands to return at any moment, but after a fashion he sat up and then left the bed entirely.

The door to the bathroom clicked shut, and I heard the shower start. He was whistling in there. Whistling. Like he didn't have a care in the world.

I started kicking the footboard. I was angry. I was tired. I was afraid. I just wanted out. I wanted this to be done with.

The whistling stopped abruptly after a particularly vicious kick that splintered part of the support. I took a deep breath and stopped, listening intently. The shower stopped, and I mentally cursed. Just one more kick would have done it.

"You should have worked on your hand first," Wade said, his voice sounding as if he had a throat full of gravel.

The bathroom door flung open. "You should have," Punk agreed. "It makes me wonder if you really want to get free or if maybe – just maybe – you actually enjoy your time with me."

His hands lightly stroked down my back, and I shuddered violently. "Don't touch me," I spat.

He laughed. "You really need to stop fighting me. It's only going to make things that much more difficult."

I kicked the footboard again, angrily. It splintered even further and I gasped in pain as a large wedge of wood drove its way into my foot.

"You fucking idiot," Punk snapped, leaping off of the bed as I yelped pitifully.

He took my foot in his hand, deftly untying the rope around my ankle with his other hand. He pulled the wood out of my foot and then clamped his hand over the wound to staunch the bleeding.

"I should have left it in," he growled, "and let you limp around on it all day as a reminder of what happens when you act like a goddamned moron." He twisted my ankle a bit, and I whimpered, tears starting to stream down my cheeks.

He sighed heavily and dropped my foot. I heard him stomp into the bathroom, and when he came back out he began to bandage my wound.

He wasn't gentle, but he didn't hurt me any further either.

"Stop smirking," he snapped. I could only imagine he was talking to Wade.

"Still think that she'll always run back to you?" He replied softly. "She's not going along with all this as easily as you'd hoped, is she?"

"Shut up," Punk snapped again.

"Today's not going to be as easy as you think it is," Wade warned. "You're not going to win this fight."

I heard the unmistakable sound of a punch.

"I told you to shut up," Punk muttered angrily.

He left us alone for a little while.

My wrist was still bound to the headboard. Wade was still in his involuntary sleep.

I contemplated finally working on the restraint on my wrist, but fear kept me from even trying to touch it.

After twenty minutes that felt like an eternity, Punk came back in. He noted that I was still restrained, and I thought I saw a small smile on his lips.

"Everything's set," he said slowly, sitting beside me. "We'll be leaving today." He lightly rested his hand on my side. "We're going to have a long trip ahead of us."

"Where are we going?"

"That's a surprise."

"Will the kids be there?"

He sighed. "No. I told you, you can't be around them when you're so erratic." He reached up and untied my wrist. I immediately brought it down and began to massage it to bring blood flow back. I was rewarded with the sensation of pins and needles almost instantly.

I rolled onto my back and stared up at Punk. His eyes met mine without hesitation, calm and sleepy. "You need to get packed. I want to be on the road within the hour. Get a few changes of clothes and anything with sentimental value for you or the kids. Everything else stays."


	9. Chapter 9

We were on the road within an hour, as Punk had hoped.

Wade was in the backseat, his hands still bound behind his back. Punk had kept me untied, but he also made sure to watch me closely.

We drove north for two hours. I glanced back at Wade with increasing frequency, a knot forming in the pit of my stomach. Punk had sworn that we were going to bring him to the hospital, but we were quickly approaching wilderness – there was no hospital anywhere near where we were headed.

My fears were confirmed when Punk suddenly pulled off the main road. He drove for another twenty minutes on a dusty dirt road before simply stopping.

"End of the line, Mr. Barrett," he said gleefully. I turned to look at him, all of the horror I felt written on my face.

Punk merely smiled at me, perfectly calm, before stepping out of the SUV. He walked around the back and opened Wade's door.

Wade refused to move for a moment. "I love you," he said to me, defiant. "I am always going to love you. Nothing will ever change that."

"I love you," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady even though I was already crying.

"Lovely," Punk snapped. "Now, out."

He pulled Wade to the front of the SUV. Turning him around, he untied his hands and stepped back. He handed him a bottle of water and pointed back towards the main road.

I couldn't take it anymore.

I got out of the car. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"You're not needed out here," Punk replied. "Get back in the car."

"He's leaving me out here to find my way to a hospital," Wade replied dryly. "At least he's giving me some water."

"No," I said simply, stunned. "No, you promised that we were taking him to a hospital."

"Shut the fuck up," Punk replied, turning to briefly shoot me a look of warning. "He'll get to a hospital."

I walked towards him, anger coursing through me. "You don't know that. You can't know that. I only came with you because you would let me see Ben and Claire and you would take Wade to a hospital. Those were the terms of our agreement."

He laughed. "You really think you have any bargaining power here? Just shut your mouth and get back in the fucking car, before I get really angry."

"No." I crossed my arms over my chest. "If you're leaving Wade here, here is where I'm staying."

Punk laughed. "That is so cute." He moved over towards me and grabbed my arm, trying to take me back to the car. I dug my feet in. He turned back towards me. "Move," he growled. "You're starting to piss me off."

"No," I once again answered.

That was the last thing I knew for a while.

When I came back to, we were rocketing along the highway.

My head hurt. I found that I could barely open my right eye. I turned towards the drivers' seat, unsurprised but still disappointed to see Punk sitting there very calmly.

"Where are we?" I asked.

He turned towards me, and I was surprised to see that his lip was swollen and split. He had tried to wipe the blood away, but missed a small portion of it in the corner of his mouth. His left eye was blackened and swollen nearly shut. I almost smiled. Wade hadn't let him off easy.

"We're headed north," he replied vaguely, wincing slightly as his lips moved.

"Where are we going?"

"North," he snapped. He was obviously still in a foul mood from his beating.

"When will we get there?" I decided to press him. It made me slightly gleeful that he was so miserable. It served him right.

"When we fucking get there."

"You wanted me to take an interest in what we were doing. Now, I take an interest, and you're snide."

"I've actually explicitly told you to not ask questions," he muttered.

I decided I'd had enough of antagonizing him for awhile. We rode in silence for the next half hour or so before Punk pulled into a small, dusty gas station.

"Stay here," he said.

"Can I please use the bathroom at least?"

"No. You'll get some funny looks with that black eye. Don't want to draw attention just yet." He stepped out of the car without another word, and I found myself pulling down the visor to check out the mirror.

"Son of a bitch," I muttered, staring at my reflection.

I did indeed have one hell of a shiner. It was the first time Punk had marked up my face. I hoped that it would end up being the last, as well.

We finally stopped for the night at a rundown motel. I didn't even know what state we were in at this point – Punk had kept to back roads, mostly, which meant that road or city signs were hard to come by.

Instead of going to the front office, he drove around the back of the building. He parked next to the only other car there, a non-descript four-door black Chevy.

"Come on," he said, reaching over to unbuckle my seatbelt.

I moved slowly after spending nearly all day seated as we drove.

Punk grabbed my suitcase from the back. He then lead me towards room number 27, keeping a firm grasp on my elbow.

He knocked, and the door was opened by a man I'd never seen before, but was someone with whom Punk was obviously familiar.

"Come in," he said, moving aside to let us in. He studied us both intently before declaring, "We have a lot of work to do."


	10. Chapter 10

I sullenly ran my hand over my wet hair, glancing down at the foreign dark locks pooling over my shoulders.

Punk hadn't been gentle. I thought he was going to attempt to drown me a few times. I had fought ferociously, partially out of pure vanity and partially out of genuine anger.

I felt an arm wrap around my shoulders.

"You can go back to being blonde in a few years, once the hoopla has died down," he said softly, squeezing my shoulder reassuringly.

I glanced back at him. All that he had done was cut his hair incredibly short in order to blend in easier. His appearance wasn't radically different.

Noting my perturbed silence, he turned to the other man in the room – Spence, he called him.

"Will the black eyes be a problem?" He asked, gesturing between the two of us.

Spence shook his head, clicking away behind a computer monitor. "I can photoshop that, no problem."

"So can I avoid covering my tattoo for now, too?"

"Yeah, you can just leave it. I'll take it out."

He then went back to clicking away. Punk rubbed his thumb over my shoulder absently, staring off into space. He pulled me a little closer to him, resting his head in the nook of my neck. He nuzzled me with his nose and placed a very light kiss on my shoulder.

"After we're done, I was thinking we could call the kids," he said quietly. "Would you like that?"

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. My babies. I could talk to my babies.

"Yes," I replied, nodding. "Yes. I would like that more than anything."

I could feel him smiling as he pressed his lips against my neck again. "All right. We'll get through this, get dinner, and then give them a call."

I hesitated. "What is 'this' that we're doing, exactly?"

"Spence is giving us our new identification. For both us and the kids. Birth certificates, social security cards, drivers' licenses for us – the only thing he couldn't do was a marriage certificate, but we can take care of that in time." He looked at me and grinned. "We're going to be the Brooks family. Talk about an everyman name. Although I believe your last name at the present time is something just as bland, Meyers maybe?"

I blinked away tears. My last name was Barrett, goddamnit. My children's last names were Barrett.

"What are our names going to be?" I managed to ask instead of slapping him.

"I'll be Stephen," Punk started, and I nearly told him I didn't give a shit what his name was going to be. "Ben and Claire will still be Ben and Claire. Your name is going to be Erin."

"Erin," I repeated slowly, nodding.

"I'm glad you like it," Punk said.

I laughed bitterly. "I don't really have much of a choice."

He shook his head. "No. We had to go with the names that matched the social security numbers Spence...obtained. I made sure he was able to have the kids keep their names, though. Apparently no easy feat."

"I'm glad they get to keep them," I replied firmly.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Punk nod. "I am, too." He was staring at me intently, my guess was to gauge how I was taking all of this. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me rattled.

"All right," Spence said, "I'm ready for you guys."


	11. Chapter 11

I studied my new ID quietly. I could appreciate Spence's work in a detached kind of way. My photo didn't have a black eye, which I found to be an improvement.

Punk came back and caught me staring at the kids' birth certificates. He tossed down a bag of fast food takeout and turned the television on.

There was no news about us. I found myself wondering about Wade. He must have made it to a hospital by now...at least, I hoped he had.

We ate in silence. I ate quickly, impatient to talk to my kids.

When Punk was done, he sat back and stared at me. "You really want to talk to them, don't you?"

"Of course I do. I haven't talked to them in two days."

Punk nodded slowly. "What will you give me to speak to them?"

My jaw dropped. "Are you kidding me?"

"I have to bargain where I can," he replied, shrugging.

"Just take whatever you want," I snapped, disgusted. "I want to talk to my kids."

He stared at me. "You don't get it yet, do you?"

"Get what?"

"I'm not going to force myself on you physically. I want us to be a family. I'm trying so hard to make you fall in love with me, or at least learn to tolerate me. I went through a lot of trouble for all this."

"Oh, how dare I discount your sacrifice?" I snapped.

"No," he shook his head, "I'm not saying that. I'm saying that I love you. I don't want us to be in misery for the rest of our lives." He paused. "I'm going to call the kids. No strings attached." He leaned forward and kissed me. "But I hope that you'll start to come around soon."

I stayed awake for a long time that night. I had talked to Ben and Claire for half an hour before Ben had told me, impatiently, that I was holding up his board game. I laughed before handing the phone back so Punk could talk to whoever was keeping the kids.

"They're doing really well," he'd said as he hung up.

"Yeah," I'd agreed quietly. Now that I couldn't hear their voices any longer, it simply made my heart ache for them even more.

Punk had leaned over and kissed my forehead. Rather than sit there awkwardly, I decided it was time for me to go to bed.

And so here I was, unable to sleep. Punk had the TV on low as he laid in bed beside me. My back was to him and he occasionally lightly touched me, brushing hair out of my face or gently stroking my shoulders.

My mind was working furiously, attempting to process everything that had happened today, as well as over the last few days. The situation still seemed so surreal to me.

Punk slid down into the bed behind me and wrapped his arm around me.

"You're still awake," he murmured next to my ear. "Any reason for that?"

I was quiet for a few moments. "I miss the kids," I finally said. "I miss them so much it hurts. I'm worried about Wade. I'm afraid for what the next few days have in store. I feel like my whole world has imploded and I'm buried beneath the rubble."

Punk was quiet for a few minutes. "That's because it has," he finally said slowly. "Your life as you knew it is over. This is the start of a new life."

"I liked my old life."

He snorted. "You liked the constant back and forth between two men? The constant worry about your children and how they'd handle the fallout? I think you might actually be insane." He paused. "I promise, this life will be much better. After a while, you won't even think about the life that's just imploded on you."


	12. Chapter 12

We left early the following morning. A different SUV was waiting for us outside. I didn't ask any questions. I was tired of asking questions.

After four days of driving and relative silence, we arrived at our final destination.

I couldn't help but gape. Punk noticed and smiled.

"I may have bought it with you in mind," he said gently, taking my hand.

I was staring up at an enormous log cabin. I wasn't even sure it could still be called a cabin at this point.

"Where are we?" I finally asked. The last day of our journey had been through more and more desolate country, and the last house I had seen was about half an hour from here. We were surrounded by forest.

"Montana," he replied carefully. I felt myself swallowing a lump in my throat. I had told him long ago that if I ever felt the need to escape my life, I'd simply run off to the backwoods of Montana. The connection was not lost on me.

"Let's go in," he said after a few moments of silence.

Obediently, I made my feet move up the steps of the front porch. I waited while he opened the door. And then I stepped into my new life.

The house was, quite simply, beautiful. I was surrounded by honey-colored pine wood. There was a large fireplace made of natural stone dominating the main room. I could see straight through into what I assumed was the kitchen in the back of the house. The windows in there were floor-to-ceiling and I could see an expanse of green grass flowing out from them.

I swallowed hard, overwhelmed.

"Upstairs," Punk said lightly, turning me towards the right side of the room. I slowly climbed upwards, his footfalls following me.

The upstairs was open. I peered down into the great room below, still stunned. Off of the walkway, in a square U-shape, were doors which I assumed led to bedrooms. In the front of the house, the walkway was left open in front of the large window looking out onto the driveway.

Punk led me to the far side of where we had come up and opened the only door on that wall.

I could tell immediately that this would be where he and I were sleeping.

He deposited my suitcase beside the door and studied me intently while I looked the room over. We had our own fireplace, a smaller version of the gigantic one downstairs. I walked over towards the windows flanking the bed and looked out.

There was a mountain staring back at me.

"Unbelievable," I murmured, unable to help myself.

I could hear Punk chuckling a little behind me. That snapped me out of my admiration.

I turned away, although it was difficult, and explored the rest of the room. Two walk-in closets. A small sitting area. And our own bathroom.

I was pretty sure this bathroom was the size of my bedroom in my old house.

Punk trailed after me, watching as I lightly ran my fingers over the tile and granite counter. I stared enviously at the shower, which was big enough for a party of ten, easily. The bathtub had jets. A jetted bathtub. In a log cabin.

Definitely could not call this a cabin any longer, I thought.

Punk's hands lightly caught my hips, and his lips pressed against my neck. "I need to wash this stuff off," he said quietly, indicating the make-up he'd been using to cover the tattoos on his hands and arms, as well as the one behind his ear. "Why don't you get the shower started for us?"

My heart pounding in my throat, I nodded curtly.

It took me awhile to figure out how to work all of the nozzles. I was so fascinated by the different settings that Punk was naked and pressed against me before I really knew what was happening.

He impatiently tugged my clothes off and, surprisingly cautiously, led me into the shower.

I should have known this was coming, I thought as he lightly pushed me into the wall and began kissing me intensely.

He hadn't tried anything since the night in the hotel room when I had flatly told him to just take what he wanted. I could tell that he was starting to get frustrated about our lack of contact the last few days. Last night in the hotel, he'd been rubbing against me in bed. I had simply laid still, my back to him, until he'd gotten up abruptly and went to the bathroom. I'd heard the shower start. He had seemed more calm when he came out.

That was definitely not the case now.

He pulled my legs up and wrapped them around his waist, and then he was inside of me before I could even say a word in protest.

I went to that far away place again. I watched the water bounce off of Punk's arms, rivulets of make-up running off of them and slowly revealing his tattoos. His facade was washing away and he was returning to the man I feared and loathed. The man who had taken everything away from me.


	13. Chapter 13

He'd wanted to continue our shower after he was done. His big hands had soaped up my hair and body, astonishingly gentle.

As we finished, he bent and kissed me before turning the water off. He disappeared for a moment, telling me to stay put, before returning with a towel slung across his waist and another in his hand for me. I accepted it gratefully before making my way back into the bedroom.

I began to dig through my suitcase, attempting to find something clean to wear, before I realized I'd been wearing the last set of clean clothes I'd brought with me.

I could tell from the smirk on his face that Punk knew that, too.

"Is there somewhere I can do laundry?" I asked quietly.

"We have a washer and dryer downstairs, off of the kitchen," he explained. "I'll take your clothes down later and get them clean. We need to talk first."

"I don't want to talk in a towel," I said firmly.

He reached out and yanked the towel from me, leaving me naked. I glared angrily at him, but for once he simply chose to ignore it. "Is that better?" He asked, eyes narrowed.

"Can I please have the towel back?" I replied wearily.

"No," he said simply.

Rather than argue, I sat down on the bed and waited for him to begin.

He paced for a few moments before coming towards me on the bed. "Lay down," he instructed me. I attempted to keep my suspicion from bubbling up into my face.

He climbed on top of me. I closed my eyes, getting ready to leave.

"No," he said sharply. "Open your eyes. Look at me."

Reluctantly, I looked up into his face. A set of blue eyes that was both familiar and unfamiliar stared back at me – his eyes were colored by the contacts we were both wearing to change our appearances that much more. Mine were green.

"You need to stay with me," he said, his voice surprisingly understanding. "I know this is hard for you. I know it hurts you in a place that I can't even touch. But this is how we're going to learn to be a family again."

I started to cry. "I don't want to be a family with you," I sobbed, covering my face with my hands. "I can't stand you."

I heard Punk sigh as he rolled off of me and pulled me into his arms. For once, he didn't say anything. He just held me.

I cried like I hadn't in years. When I was finally done, I felt as weak as a kitten. My eyes were dropping, even though I hadn't thought I was tired.

Warm, soft blankets draped over skin I hadn't noticed was cold. I murmured something – thanks, curses, nonsense – that was hard to decipher, but a hand gently touched my hair in acknowledgment all the same.

I woke again as he was sliding back into the bed beside me.

The light outside had faded and we were bathed in the purple light of twilight streaming in through our windows.

He pulled me close to him, absently stroking my back.

I used those few quiet moments to try to take stock of how I was feeling.

I was tired. I felt drained, completely empty of any feeling at all. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, I was surprised to note.

"Are you all right?" He asked in a low voice.

"I think so," I replied just as quietly. "How did you know I was awake?"

"Your breathing," he replied. "I can usually tell if you're content or angry by how you breathe; sleeping or awake is amateur hour."

For some reason, this made me wrap my arm across his chest, and I nuzzled into him. I felt his inhalation more than heard it, but I knew what it meant. I went to move away, but he stopped me. "No," he said softly. "Don't." His voice wasn't a warning, but a plea. I felt oddly calm.

"When are the kids coming?" I asked, wanting to distract him.

"Soon. They're safe for now, out of the reaches of Wade or the police. They're going to be on their way here in a few days."

I closed my eyes, grateful. "Good," I said softly. I hesitated, afraid to ask what I so desperately wanted to. "Is Wade looking for us?" I asked quietly.

Punk was silent for a few moments. "There's a manhunt, but it's still pretty localized to Florida. He made it to a hospital and is recovering."

I closed my eyes and bit my lip to keep from crying out. I was relieved.

"That's the last I'll speak of him," Punk said, attempting to keep his tone casual. I could still hear the anger he was so trying so hard to conceal.

"Ok," I replied amiably. "I just wanted to know the situation."

But in my heart, I started to do something reckless and stupid. I started to hope.


	14. Chapter 14

The third day found me locked in the upstairs bedroom.

I'd been mouthing off to Punk before simply walking out the door. He'd caught me and dragged me back into the house.

"You'll never see the kids if you keep this up," he snapped, slamming the door shut. It was the first time I noticed the key-only deadbolt installed in our bedroom. Nice feature, I thought glumly.

I sat on the bed for a few minutes, stewing.

Punk had been very careful. The car keys remained in a place unknown to me. The front door was deadbolted shut with a very similar lock to the one currently keeping me in the bedroom. And the alarm system was set to go off any time any exit point was compromised. He hadn't seen fit to let me in on the code yet.

I'd done my best to behave appropriately over the last two days, hoping I would get to see Ben and Claire. I'd asked him carefully this morning when that would happen. He had simply shaken his head and told me it wouldn't be any time soon.

I'd surmised that it was because I hadn't thrown myself at him. We slept in the same bed, but I tried to keep some distance between us at night.

I'd called him a lot of names, and said a lot of very angry things.

I wanted to see my kids. I deserved to see my kids.

I very calmly stood up and walked over to the window directly across from the door. Taking a deep breath, I got a running start before slamming into the door with my shoulder.

It moved slightly. My shoulder hurt like hell.

I was determined to keep trying.

The third time I went back to rush at the door, I heard the keys fumbling in the lock. I narrowed my eyes and elected to run towards it anyway.

Punk opened the door and caught me before I shoved him over the railing and down into the great room.

He securely wrapped his arm around my waist and yanked me into the room.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

I began kicking at him. "I have had enough. Let me go. Let me out of here."

"Stop it," he said firmly, trying to hold on to me.

I finally slowed down and sat still for a few moments.

"Are you done?"

I nodded. He put me down.

I turned around and hit him as hard as I could with a closed fist. Then I bolted for the door.

He caught my halfway down the stairs, his nose dripping with blood. He rushed me down the rest of the stairs and threw me on the floor angrily, driving the breath out of my lungs. He was on top of me before I could get away, his hands wrapped around my throat.

I could see how angry he was, and I was almost sure he was going to kill me. I closed my eyes. I was ready.

His hands peeled away from my throat, and his lips were suddenly on mine. I was still so angry, I bit down on his lip. He gasped, but didn't pull away.

I could never say what compelled me to do it...but I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled his face down onto mine.

We didn't even bother undressing completely.

He thrust into me roughly, and I found that I wanted him to hurt me. I wanted to hurt him. I urged him to go hard, go fast, and I bit into his shoulder.

He wound his hand into my hair and yanked hard, wrenching my neck so my lips could meet his again.

We were both gasping and panting, making noises that sounded more like animals than human beings. His lips were everywhere; his cock was filling me so completely – the sensations were too overwhelming. I was only vaguely surprised when one of the most intense orgasms of my life ripped through my body. I dug my nails into his back viciously, screaming, my body so tense that it practically came up off the floor.

I was only somewhat aware of Punk having his own orgasm, which seemed just as intense.

We lay there quietly for a few minutes, both of us breathing harshly. Punk's lips found mine, and they were a good deal more gentle.

I kissed him back. I still don't know why.

After a fashion, he slipped away from me to stand up and then offered me his hand.

"We should really clean your face up," I said apologetically. I saw a ghost of a smile pass his lips. Twining his fingers with mine, he led me to the downstairs bathroom and sat on the toilet expectantly.

I gently wiped the blood away, studying his nose.

"It's not broken," he said. "I would've felt it."

I nodded and went back to swabbing his nose.

Suddenly, he caught my hand. "Are we done with this?" He asked, his voice cautious but very gentle all the same.

I sighed. "I still don't like it," I warned.

He nodded. "I know."

"I still hope Wade finds us and kicks the ever-loving shit out of you."

"I know."

I blinked hard. "But I want my kids. I want them more than anything in the world. Whatever I have to do for them...I will."

He looked at me seriously. "I understand." He paused. "It will be a few days before I send for them, and then a few days for them to get here." He caught my hand. "You'll love me again," he said firmly.


	15. Chapter 15

It wasn't easy.

Then again, what marriage is?

We fought bitterly from time to time. The worst was when I found out Wade had remarried. Punk didn't understand why that effected me so deeply. In truth, it was because everything he had said about Wade's dedication to us as a family was true. It had only been three years since we disappeared, and he had moved on.

In my heart, that was when I gave up completely on the idea of being rescued. Once that notion had disappeared from my head, I found it was easy to give my heart to Punk.

It happened almost without my noticing it, honestly. I can remember laughing with him over some inane thing one moment, and then the next, my heart was no longer my own.

He gave me a stunning diamond ring a year after I'd found out Wade had remarried already. We had our own small ceremony in the back yard of our house. Ben stood up for Punk and Claire – at this point seven already, and knowing only Punk as her father – stood up for me.

Two years later, our daughter Alice was born, and our family was complete.

Life was as good as it could get.

Ben left today for college. It's still surreal to me to walk by his empty bedroom, and know that our son now has to make his own way in the world.

He had never asked, I thought, about Wade. He'd never mentioned to Claire that Punk wasn't her biological father. When we had a few moments alone as we were packing the car, I asked him why.

My son, grown up and so resembling his father, simply shrugged. "I just assumed you made your choice. You must have had your reasons for not wanting Wade around Claire." He paused. "Dad's a better choice anyway," he grinned. "I always thought that, even when I was little."

I hugged him gently, praying he never found out that the choice initially wasn't mine. Punk was many things, but a good father was high on that list. I never wanted Ben to be hurt by the truth of our early relationship.

"He'll be all right," Punk said, wrapping his arm around my shoulders as I watched him back out of the driveway.

I nodded. "I know," I replied, crossing my arms over my chest.

He leaned over and kissed my temple. Ben waved, and we waved back. I waved until his car was no longer in sight.

"One down, two to go," Punk attempted to say lightly. "Just need to get the girls out of here and we'll have our house back."

I smiled. "We'll never have our house back," I laughed. "By the time Alice goes to college, Ben will be bringing the grandchildren home."

A genuine smile lit up on the face of my husband. "Grandchildren," he said quietly. "I can't wait for that." He turned me towards him, his hands on my hips, and studied me for a moment. "I love you, baby," he murmured, leaning forward to kiss me. "Our life was worth every heartache."

I smiled, returning his kiss and wrapping my arms around his neck. "It turned out better than I could have ever hoped for," I admitted. After a moment, I added a thought I'd had for a long time. "Even though it's a really, really fucked-up love story."

He laughed. "Everyone's love story is really fucked-up in its own way."


	16. Chapter 16

Hello all! Thank you so much to everyone who has read and enjoyed this series. I've just published my first story in a new series I'm working on. You can find it under the title "Let's Begin Feeding the Sickness" if you are so inclined. Thanks again, and hope you enjoy!


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